


Golf Alpha Yankee

by canadianwheatpirates



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, d/s dynamics, gratuitous office supply closet sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianwheatpirates/pseuds/canadianwheatpirates
Summary: 'Her hypervigilance can be excused in a place like this, and the last thing she needs is to be spotted vanishing into a supply closet. There’s surveillance, of course, but that will be taken care of — it always is.Satisfied the coast is clear, she ducks inside and shuts the door behind her. “Ma’am.”'Control and Schiffman have an understanding.





	Golf Alpha Yankee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andthatisterrible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthatisterrible/gifts).



> Baby's first smut! andthatisterrible has talked about this dynamic [ on tumblr ](http://asleepinawell.tumblr.com/search/schiffmann) and I got sucked in like the easily prompted fool I am (^_^). Title is NATO Phonetic Alphabet, you'll figure it out :P

Everybody at the Activity knows that Schiffman is a lesbian. It’s not the kind of thing you can conceal, with the background checks upon background checks. Not that she makes any attempt to hide it; between the regulation-pushing fringe and the regulation-unnecessary tie, she’s flagging harder than a football game.

What they  _ don’t _ know is that she just got a self-deleting text.  _ Usual office supply closet, 20. _

 

The hallway is clear, but her gaze darts around anyway. Her hypervigilance can be excused in a place like this, and the last thing she needs is to be spotted vanishing into a supply closet. There’s surveillance, of course, but that will be taken care of — it always is.

Satisfied the coast is clear, she ducks inside and shuts the door behind her. “Ma’am.” 

Control grabs her by her tie and drags her closer, drags her  _ down _ ; her knees hit the floor and  _ yes _ . She trails a hand up control’s thigh, leaning closer, asking wordlessly. In answer, Control’s hand makes a fist in her skirt, dragging it upward. Schiffman follows it with her mouth, sucking light marks into the skin but careful not to bite; that’s not what she’s here for. Her fingers brush through hair — oh god, has she been going commando all day? — and the rest of her thoughts short out at the taste of her.

She used to think Control didn’t react, that she kept her composure as well as in every other situation, but over time she’s learned the signs; Control presses down against her ever so slightly as Schiffman licks at her, like she wants to grab her and grind down properly but she’s holding herself back. Briefly, she wonders what Control would be like in a less risky situation, but decides to file that fantasy away for when she’s at home.

Desperate for better access, she hikes one of Control’s legs over her shoulder. The shelves creak as Control leans on them and she should definitely be more worried about getting caught than she is right now. She slips her free hand into her pants — she’d only made the mistake of offering to finger Control once — and moans quietly when they find her clit. She knows she’s not allowed to come before Control does, and the strokes of her fingers across herself only push her to lick and suck with more vigour.

Control makes a small noise above her, and Schiffman knows she’s close. Her own fingers speed up, drawing tight circles, and she wraps her lips around Control’s clit. Above her, she can hear Control panting. She sucks harder, flicks her tongue across it, and is rewarded with a soft moan. Control shivers when she does it again, and then groans; she tenses up around Schiffman, the leg over her shoulder pressing her even closer. Schiffman licks her through it, pride and satisfaction burning through her. It’s enough to tip her over the edge and she pulls back as she comes, curling up with a small choked noise. Control lightly rests a hand on her head, comforting her, praising her. Schiffman lets herself sink into it as she rides out the aftershocks, relaxing in the warmth of the feelings. 

Once she falls still, Control steps past her; a moment later the door swings shut. Schiffman pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes her mouth and fingers. She always waits a couple of minutes after Control leaves, both to get her breath back and to prevent them being seen together. Her legs ache as she stands, the discomfort of kneeling so long obscured by the pleasure, and she brushes some telltale carpet fibers from her pants. She cracks the door open, checks the coast is clear, and sidles back into the hallway.

 

Everyone at the Activity knows that Schiffman is a lesbian.

But they don’t know the half of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! I maaaaay write more of this, maybe, if my stack of WIPs ever gets less towering.


End file.
